


I Close My Eyes, But She’s Still There

by azulaahai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (I KNOW BUT IT'S IN THE MOVIE), Beauty and the Beast AU, F/M, Grey Wind is a horse, I have no fucking clue what's going on here, Kidnapping, dark!Jon I guess, the stark kids are poor orphans, this is awful lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: When her older brother fails to return from a voyage to a nearby village, it is up to Sansa Stark to find him again.





	I Close My Eyes, But She’s Still There

**Author's Note:**

> A messy Jon x Sansa Beauty and the Beast AU based on the Disney movie(s) for @miazeklos for the latest round of the @jonsaexchange on tumblr
> 
> Title, of course, from the song ”Evermore” on the movie soundtrack.

T H E   B E A U T Y

It will  _have_  to be her, Sansa thinks, as she mounts the horse, the old leather of the saddle creaking in protest as she straddles it.

There’s no one else left.

They’ve been scraping by, her family, doing what they could to keep above water. Losing father was unbearable, the loss and grief threatening to undo them. But losing mother, not a year thereafter … that was almost impossible.

That winter brought them close to starvation - Sansa and Robb went without food for days so that Arya, Bran and Rickon could eat. They had few friends in the village, the Stark always having been viewed as peculiar, worshipping other gods and keeping other customs than the rest of the villagers.   
  
In the coldest weeks of winter, they all fell ill with fever. Rickon, baby Rickon, was in the worst shape, and for a few days there Sansa was sure they would lose him too.

But Rickon had made it through the peak of the fever, shiny Stark-grey eyes blinking awake in the morning, and Sansa had thanked whatever gods that must still have been hearing her prayers.

And spring had come again, as surely and suddenly as winter had snuck up on them - the drives of snow had begun thawing, the cold winds softened their touch, the early flowers sprung up where there had been ice weeks before. Arya went out without her furs. Hope, that treacherous beast, began spurring in Sansa again. With spring here, the roads would once more be safe for travels - they could trade with neighbouring villages, as their parents had - sell furs and handiworks of Sansa’s making, grow vegetables in the garden again.

It had all looked so heartbreakingly bright, there, for a while. Robb had set out on his first trading journey with a broad, victorious grin on his lips, and they’d all been there to wave him off as he went in the carriage, Grey Wind, their beautiful silvergrey gelding, pulling Robb and their goods off on an adventure.

And then came the waiting.

First, he was a day or two late. It was easy to brush off, to explain to Rickon, who threw a fit when Robb wasn’t home on time - their brother could simply have decided to stay longer in the other village for whatever reason, or have been delayed on the road. He’d be home anytime now, for sure.

But he wasn’t.

On the third day a terrified Grey Wind, without the carriage and sweating profusely, galloped into the garden, large dark eyes stirring white.

And Sansa’s world came crashing down once more.

A cloud of steam rises as she exhales in the early morning - a chilly bite remains in the air, though spring has come for true now.

She is following her brother’s trail, Grey Wind uneasy beneath her as they set off into the woods. The landscape lays quiet around them, the silence broken only by the occassional bird or snapping tree branch.

No one is there to see them go - only Arya knows she’s leaving, and she’s still sleeping inside with their little brothers. Her sister begged and demanded that Sansa let her go find Robb in her stead. Arya is the fiercest of the two, no doubt about it, and by far the superior rider - but with Robb and their parents gone, Sansa’s the eldest, responsible for the others. She could never send Arya off to an unknown danger.

And if she’s to never return, their brothers would likely fare better with Arya, she-wolf with teeth and claws, to protect them, than Sansa with her songs and stories.

* *

The ride is hard, at least on her untrained body; Sansa’s legs are sore after a mere half hour. Grey Wind is not his usual calm, reliable self - he’s taut as a bow string beneath the saddle, freezing or jumping to the side at every small noise. They keep a humble pace, trotting along the forest trail. Not a single man or creature is in sight, save a bunny that flees when it spots them and a bird flying up from the bushes, giving Grey Wind a fright.

There’s something strange in the air, Sansa reflects with a shiver; the air seems to have grown colder. Snow remains in the ditches on the side of the trail, and Sansa must be imagining it, but it almost seems as though the amount of it increases the further into the forest they travel.

The silence, too, seems to grow louder in here among the trees, more piercing. Sansa hasn’t been this deep into the woods for years, but the forest she remembers from her childhood, when she used to ride in the back of her father’s carriage, was not at all this quiet. It’s as if nature itself is holding it’s breath.

* *

When Grey Wind wants to trail off track into the woods the first time, she stops him with a pull on the reins. The horse, behaving highly out of character, ignores her command, continuing on the small path he’s found. Sansa, equally annoyed and scared as she gazes into the dimness of the forest ahead, half-dark even during the day, urges him to turn back.

Instead, he increases their pace as he sets off into the woods, breaking into a trot, then a canter, dark silhouettes of trees whirling by on both sides as Sansa desperately pulls on the reins to hold the horse back.

Grey Winds does not heed her commands, nor her shouts as their speed turns reckless. Snow lies thick on the ground here, though Sansa has no time to dwell on that. The horse has lost his mind, it appears - fear flutters through her. She does not notice the trees beginning to thin out around her, knows nothing but the sound of hooves hitting snow at a mad pace and her own primal fear telling her she’s a second or so from death. Sansa presses her eyes shut, not wanting to see the end as it hits her -

And then - suddenly - salvation.

Grey Wind suddenly slows down, steam rising from him in the cold, Sansa sees as she hesitantly opens her eyes again.

The cold, yes - so unforgiving now, cutting through Sansa’s thick woolen cloak as were it cotton.

The horse’s pace gradually decreasing, until he’s walking calmly again, he bows his head and snorts, as if in apology for his temporary outbreak of madness.

And that’s when Sansa realizes there are no trees surrounding them anymore.

  
That’s when she sees the castle.

* *

T H E    B E A S T

It has been a long, long time since he’s seen people.

And now there’s two of them in a matter of days.

He hears voices, as he moves up the stairs, echoing in the tower like a beautifully twisted melody.

”Robb!?” a bright, melodious one exclaims. Is that the name of his prisoner?  
  
Jon has not bothered learning it.

His steps feel heavy.

” _Sansa_?” is heard next, in the deep voice he’s come to recognize as the prisoner.

They know each other, then.

”You have to leave, Sansa”, says the prisoner, and Jon grinds to a halt in the stairs.

They’re afraid of him.

Of course.

Why wouldn’t they be?

He begins moving up the steps again, quicker. No more of this, no more strange people in his castle. He prefers to mope in solitude.

There comes more talking from up in the tower, lower now; Jon can’t make out the words. He steps up the last few steps in a rage, angry to be disturbed, angry to be feared.

He steps into the tower room and there she is.

Red hair, glistening blue eyes. She does not cry out when she sees him - that is to her credit. But she flinches away as he steps into the light, and the revulsion written across her features stings.

The prisoner stands on the other side of the bars of the cell, looking ready to break out just to stand between Jon and this woman.

”What is the meaning of this?” Jon roars, in that voice that still isn’t quite his.

”Who are you?” the girl breathes, still taken aback.

  
”Given that it is my castle, it is I who should be asking you that.”

”I’m here for my brother.” She straightens her shoulders, a quiet defiance in her eyes as they meet his. To his surprise, hers don’t have fear as much as vigilance in them.

In the cell, her brother begins speaking to him, both pleading and demanding at the same time.  
  
”Let her leave. She has done you no wrong. Let her go. Sansa”, he says to the girl. She looks at him despairingly, and for a second, Jon feels …

Strange.

”Sansa, leave now”, the prisoner says. ”Go home …”

”Not without you.” There’s tears in those eyes now. Jon takes a step back without thinking.

The girl turns to him then, accusation written across her features.

”By what right do you hold him here?”

”He trespassed on my land”, Jon grunts. ”Slept in a room in my castle.”

”Sansa”, the prisoner says again. ”Go. Now.”

”And what would it take for you to release him?” Desperation in those sky-blue eyes.

Jon snorts, and the sound startles her. He hates it,  _hates_  the way he is a monster -

but he is.

A beast.

”Your brother is imprisoned for a crime. I will not release him. If you leave here now and swear never to return, I shall grant you leave this once.”

”Sansa”, comes from the prisoner again. ” _Leave._ Please.”

* *

  
T H E   B E A U T Y

Robb is pleading with her from his cell, the beast before her turning to leave, thinking the matter settled. But in Sansa’s mind, an idea has hatched - a plan vaguely beginning to form.

It’s rather mad. Not at all like her.

But she thinks of her younger brothers back in the cottage. They’ll almost be ready for bed, now - twilight’s just around the corner. She thinks of Arya - angry and frightened and strong. She’ll probably be up all night, waiting for someone to come home.

 _They don’t need me_ , Sansa thinks. The thought both hurts and relieves her.  _Not as they need Robb._

And so she calls out to the beast.

”And if I wish to take his place as prisoner?”


End file.
